


U235

by saruma_aki



Series: Elements and Chemicals [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton & Loki Friendship, Clintasha - Freeform, Fluff, Gen, I'm Sorry, Jötunn Loki, Kid Loki, Loki Feels, Loki-centric, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Song Lyrics, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Thorki - Freeform, a bit - Freeform, a bit of angst, briefly, natasha romanov & loki friendship, seriously, there's not that much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:38:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saruma_aki/pseuds/saruma_aki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's life alters completely when he finds out an unbelievable truth his family had been trying to hide from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter o1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, peoples! So, this is my fourth story and my third one in the Marvel Universe stuff. I'm nervous about this one since it's longer than my other two Marvel stories, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. So, this is a two-shot and I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out--the length and everything. It probably isn't the best work since I've read some really amazing ones, but I did my best!
> 
> This story was inspired by "Yesterday Is Here" by Tom Waits. It's a pretty great song and I recommend listening to Scarlett Johansson singing it.
> 
> Anyway, I don't want to blab too much, so read on!
> 
> P.S  
> This is un-beta'd. I tried to correct it myself, but I might have missed somethings, so just a heads up.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights to their respective owners.

He remained curled on top of the shelf, pressing himself down onto it as flat as he could, praying to the Norns he wouldn’t get spotted because he did _not_ want to see his family right now.

“Loki, you must come out. Your family wishes to speak with you,” a guard called and the raven could only clench his teeth, thinking— _of course, they would never go and look for you on their own because you’re not important enough for that, are you?_

His body was still small and he managed to wriggle across the top of the book shelf till he was on the other side, large emerald orbs peeking over the edge to spot any guards. They were looking still, but heading away from the shelf he was currently stationed at. The library in the palace of Asgard was large and vast, containing a numerous number of towering book shelves. Walking around the perimeter of the entire library took quite a while, unless you were sprinting, but that wasn’t allowed. People could knock over some shelves that way or knock over precious tomes that were older than the King. The shelves were tall, easily the size of three grown men stacked vertically on top of each other, but Loki had managed to wriggle himself up there—he’d done it before when hiding from Thor’s friends who weren’t that nice when his big brother was nowhere in sight.

As the guards moved towards the shelf he was perched on top of, he quickly wriggled in the direction of the other end, remaining hidden from the eyes of the armor clad men. He didn’t want to be found. He wished to be alone to wallow in his misery.

No one was allowed in the weapons vault, he knew that. Even at his age—small with knobby knees and thin frame, large eyes set in a small triangle face and short brushed back raven hair—he knew the rules and he didn’t know what had compelled him to enter the room. It had been like something was calling him, beckoning him closer, so he had gone closer after contemplating it for an entire day. He went at night, so as to give himself the most coverage.

It had been all fine and good. Small legs had taken him closer to the vault and after dodging a few guards, he had walked in, remaining in the shadows despite no one being in there. Who knew what could be lying in the direct path. There had been a voice in his head, whispering at him, directing him and he listened blindly, moving forward and halting when he stood in front of a large pedestal, a box lying on it that was glowing blue, looking like it had some darker wisps of blue inside as they shifted against the sides of the box, swirling, giving it the impression of a liquid even as it let off a blue glow and appeared solid enough. The color seemed cold, but Loki found himself soothed by it as he was bathed in it.

Small hands had reached out, reaching out and pressing a small palm to the side of the rectangle and it pulsed lightly and he felt the cold filling him, but it felt _right_ and he was mildly frightened by that, but then he found he didn’t care as he pulled back. Moving carefully, Loki gripped the sides of the pedestal and pulled himself up onto it with great struggle because he wasn’t as strong as Thor. He had a hard time with physical exertion. Sitting with his legs on either side of the box—he didn’t dare move it—he placed both hands on it and was bewildered as he watched blue creep up his arms. What was happening?

The blue was a pale color, at first; gliding up his arms slowly and he felt the coolness stretching with the color. It caused a startled yelp to escape him and he quickly bit his lip, head snapping around to check and make sure no one had heard him. Seeing as no one was coming in, his eyes drifted back toward his hands. The cold was moving over his body before seeping in, _deep,_ like tendrils of ice and he could feel them twist around something inside him, somewhere deep inside his chest. He could feel it and panic raced through him, but he didn’t move—couldn’t move.

It fell open.

Loki gasped soundlessly, a deep breath going through him and releasing, feeling like the first breath he had taken in his lifetime—like when Fandral and Sif had held his head underwater for a prank and he had nearly drowned from it and when he had been pulled up, the air had never seemed more precious. They had left him by the side of the stream, gasping and drinking in the air.

The cold spread through him, but it was soothing. It _belonged_. The cold tendrils had picked a lock he hadn’t known was inside himself and he felt freer than ever before. The relief was short lived, though, as he felt a sudden surge through himself and promptly passed out, body bent over the box, cradling it in small arms.

The guards ran their golden spears along the shelves and Loki fought back a hiss because who knew what poor book could end up scratched because of their lack of common sense. Wriggling to the edge, he watched them move around before one of them called them to rally so that they could search another room because it seemed he wasn’t there. He counted as they left, making sure all twenty six that had entered left.

Slipping down from the top, he landed softly on the floor and picked at a wayward splinter in his hand, yanking it out and promptly freezing it, crushing it afterwards in his hands. Moving through the shelves like had been his previous intention, one arm wrapped around his mid-section; he looked through the books, fingers sliding over the spines, some worn down, and others new. Coming across one he deemed useful for his— _situation—_ he pulled it off the shelf, tucking it in his bag; something he had taken to carrying around lately.

After he had awoken a bit later in the weapons vault, he had snuck out of the room, box in hand. He heard the alarm go off and had scrambled into the blanket of darkness, removing his robe and covering the box with it before scurrying to his room even as guards ran towards the weapons vault. No one noticed the small boy hurrying back to his quarters.

He slammed the door shut to his chambers, unraveling the box from the robe and hurried to his bed. Crawling underneath it, he struggled to remove the secret stone tile from its spot where it lay inconspicuously, but once he did, he quickly stowed the box in there, shoving the tile on top and sealing the blue light from glowing in his room. Shimmying out from under the bed, he carefully hung his robe as it had been before crawling under his sheets and burying his face in his pillow, burrowed beneath his blankets, not a moment too soon as the door was slowly push open and the gentle swish of robes was heard.

The raven listened to the soft footsteps of his mother and breathed slowly in and out, feigning sleep perfectly. His mother rounded the bed and in the darkness of the room, sighing in relief as she saw his form, sleeping soundly. A small smile lit up her features and she moved away, slipping out of the room, reassured that her youngest child was safe.

After that day, the pains had started. They had happened during breakfast, Loki remembered as he flipped through the pages of the book he had nabbed, now sitting on the outskirts of Asgard, curled up in lush green grass.

It had been a twinge of pain as he had been getting dressed that morning. He assumed it was from falling asleep on the box. It hadn’t been, he later found out. Walking to breakfast, he felt the pinpricks of pain over his flesh and he quickly checked his reflection subtly and seeing everything in his appearance was normal, no blue skin, he continued to breakfast.

It was while sitting at the breakfast table that he had the first onslaught of real pain. It had pushed through him like a tidal wave and it was only because of the brutal beatings he received from Thor during training that he didn’t cry out. His body had tensed, muscles clenching, vibrating, as his jaw clenched to keep his reaction under control. No one noticed. Muttering a quiet ‘excuse me’ and a polite ‘farewell’ to his family and staff, he had strode out, plate barely touched.

The pain had continued for days after that and it had gotten to the point where he locked himself in his room with specific order for no one to be allowed in and just to be safe, he had taken the blue box and shoved it in a bag along with some other utilities and had run to the kitchens. After grabbing food, he saddled a horse, smoothing her flank with small hands as he strapped her in and throwing on a large blue cloak—a color so unlike him no one would assume it was him—he had mounted her and rode off to the outskirts of Asgard.

That was where he was now and he flipped the page, continuing to read the book, a slow smile crossing his face as he found something useful for his situation. He was young, for an Asgardian, but clever and after that night, it was like a large part of his brain had been unlocked and quite a few things made more sense. It was as if he was growing up faster mentally than he was physically. The outskirts of Asgard were hardly visited by parole and the common folk in the area were kind to Loki, not caring all that much for wealth or higher up position. Most of them had never seen his face when it came to the royal family, but they had heard his name mentioned once or twice.

Flipping through the book, reading quickly, he smiled triumphantly as he finished reading before the truth of the words sunk in. Closing the book, he ran pale fingers over the title carved into it. _The Jotun Anatomy_ it read and he sighed deeply, resting his forehead against it.

His skin had turned blue that night. He had found that odd. Odin had told him and Thor that the Casket of Ancient Winters had been stolen and then proceeded to explain what it was when Thor had voiced his confusion. A long conversation had ensued afterwards and needless to say, Thor had been a little ball of unchecked anger, immediately blaming the Frost Giants. It was two days later that Odin reassured the family, Frigga, Thor, and Loki, that it was not the Frost Giants who had stolen it. Heimdall had confirmed it himself that no Frost Giant had stepped foot inside the castle.

Loki rolled over, pulling his bag close to himself, hugging it against his chest. Odin’s finest were out looking for the casket and Loki couldn’t help but clutch the bag tighter. Since he had touched the box that night, his Jotun roots had apparently been released from whatever spell they had been under and his body was now shifting his organs to those of a Frost Giants. It was painful and there had been a point where he had to suffer through anal bleeding, a serious case of nausea, and pounding headaches, but it was now over except for small uncomfortable bits of pain littered here and there—nothing serious.

Sitting upright, he opened the bag and pulled out a pile of small papers and he sighed thickly as he gazed at them. It was worth a shot.

Muttering low words, a soft wind began before it became stronger and more violent and Loki removed a dagger from his side. It was the only weapon Odin trusted him with so far. Fortunately, it was all he needed. Cutting the blade deep into the skin of his palm, he continued muttering the spell under his breath through clenched teeth. Lifting the hand with the small slips of paper with runes written on it in the blood of a bilgesnipe, he threw them into the air as the wind picked up, spinning around him like a tornado and the papers were swept in it and he lifted his hand, words becoming louder and stronger as the blood spilling from the cut splattered over the small squares.

The casket was tugged out of his bag and he slowly lowered his voice, lifting the casket and murmuring quick words to it as he reached out his bloody hand, grabbing air and pulling down. The air seemed to open, a dark hole gaping, the vision of the scenery distorted around the hole. Reaching forward, he placed the casket inside gently. A drop of his blood touched the blue as he pulled his hands back and pulled the pocket closed.

Riding back to the palace, Loki considered the logic of not giving Odin the casket back, but then again, it wasn’t his to begin with. It was the property of the Frost Giants, regardless of what reason the old man had for taking it.

 

 

He never gave the Casket of Ancient Winters back to Odin and it stayed safely in the pocket of space Loki had put it in, protected by powerful blood magic. It had taken him years to put up all of the spells he had to keep it safe and then a few more years to put spells to protect those and then masking spells. It was protected by magic so ancient, it was known to no person alive—except for Loki.

He was sitting in his room now, gingerly adjusting the strip of metal he had wound around his forearm. It was designed to look like a long flame twisting around his arm, eating it alive. Making sure all parts of the metal were pressed solidly against his skin, he began muttering the spell.

He needed his privacy. Heimdall constantly being able to see him, watch him, wasn’t helping.

Needless to say, he spent the night in agony as the fire burn through his skin, fusing itself to his body and he felt the heat, more oppressive than he could have ever anticipated and as he writhed on the bed, bathed in his own sweat, he could faintly hear his brain repeating to him the reason why he was doing this.

The ice in his blood soothed the pain as he fell unconscious.

 

 

 

He made himself scarce the next few years, made it not seem to out of the ordinary for him to disappear for months at a time. His mother knew he was practicing his magic and keeping calm, but she didn’t know how and for what, though she never questioned. She was happy for him.

Thor was not as understanding. He would ask Loki why he always ran off and the raven would struggle to make his large oaf of a brother understand that this was the kind of training he needed, not the kind Thor underwent. He never understood.

Odin never bothered asking, though he would send Loki odd looks with his one eye every time he returned. Loki assumed he had asked Heimdall to see where he kept going and the man could never see where he went, where he was. It made the pale boy proud to know that he had performed the spell correctly.

No one knew where he went. He never stayed in Asgard, left through one of the many exits scattered through Asgard that even Heimdall didn’t know about. He would slip through those and land in the desired destination in another realm, far from his family.

He had made friends during his travels, learned much and gotten the respect and care he had craved for his entire life because—what’s a childhood without a bit of love?

It was one of the times he returned and he was sitting with Frigga outside in her gardens, drinking tea while telling her vague mentions of how his training was going.

“Oh, will you be gone longer this time?” Frigga asked softly, her beautiful eyes looking over at Loki sadly and the male smiled softly, reaching out to hold her hand gently in his own. He pretended not to see her flinch at the temperature of his skin. It was always cool unless he willed it warmer; having learned the ability to adjust his regular body temperature while in his Asgardian form, but he had always had a low body temperature. Now he knew why.

He never mentioned how long he would be gone, made very sure never to slip up.

There was a feast going on in three days time, a celebration for something Loki couldn’t be bothered to remember because he wouldn’t be joining in for long. He had robes prepared, ones he specially made himself for that very day. He spent the three days with his mother, chatting with her, sitting on his bed curled up into her side while she read away some random book from his childhood because they so rarely saw each other that she treated him like an infant still. He was okay with it, though, as long as it was only from her.

He would spend time with Thor, too, whenever his brother spared some time for his little brother. They would sit by the stream in the forest and Thor would bestow story after story on Loki of his various battles during Loki’s absence and his many conquests in bed. The raven listened to every single one, remembering them all down to the dot as his brother moved his arms animatedly. It was endearing in its own way and Loki just smiled and nodded and poked fun at his brother whenever he could, pulling laughs from the boisterous blonde and ignoring the pain in his heart.

It was the day of the feast and Loki had spent the entirety of the time while there was light outdoors making sure all preparations were set and then spent the rest hunched over his desk, writing away furiously on paper. The sheets were neatly piled and he signed all three notes with his classic elegant signature, one he was increasingly proud of. It was his. His mother’s was neat, his father’s practically illegible, and his brother’s was bold and simple.

They were rolled up and tied each with a simple ribbon. His mother’s ribbon was green in color, holding sturdy with the six pages it was tied around. His brother’s was gold, tied gently around two pages. Odin’s was tied by a black ribbon, holding the one page in position loosely. Setting them to the side, he straightened, glancing outside. It was time for the feast and he released a sigh of pure defeat as he moved to change into his clothes—simple leather wrapping tightly around his legs, black and surprisingly flexible despite its appearance. The top was a made of satin, slipping against his skin and pleasantly cool, a dark green color, reaching down to mid-thigh and the sleeves cutting off neatly just a bit longer than the heel of his hand. Pulling on his usual leather boots, he moved towards the door, grabbing his usual leather coat. Pulling it on as he exited, Loki brushed a hand through his hair, fingers of his other hand expertly closing up the leather.

“Loki, I am most joyous to have caught up with you before the celebrations,” was the only vocal warning he got before his brother was beside him, wrapping a large arm around his neck and pulling him close. He had felt the presence, the Jotun blood running through him seeming to make him more sensitive to other people—not to mention his ability for magic as well—but had refrained from acting on it. It would be deemed weird if he suddenly attacked someone in the golden halls where he lived.

“Thor,” he gasped out as the grip became tighter, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” Pale fingers pressed against the arm, trying to pry it off.

Thor’s laugh was loud and booming, bouncing off the walls of the hall. The hand slipped down, wrapping around his waist and pulling him to a strong side. As he glanced up, he saw Thor’s face, far more sober than normal, the smile gone from his lips. “Don’t leave for too long this time…” were the quiet words murmured as Thor stopped, pulling the raven to a halt as well, turning him so that they were facing each other.

“What? You’ll miss me?”

“I won’t—”

Loki pretended that comment didn’t hurt.

“—but mother will,” Thor continued, seeming to have no idea what he had just said, how much what he had just said had hurt. _By the Nine, I have horrid luck…_ A forced smile appeared on Loki’s lips as he gazed up at his older brother, eyes hard and dull—blank and clear of emotion.

“Distract her, then.”

“I cannot _waste_ my time drinking tea with her from dainty glasses while she prattles on about her newest addition to the garden.”

He yanked himself from Thor’s grip with more force than necessary. “She is your mother! Humor her, if not for a few moments.”

Thor stepped closer, forcing Loki to move backwards until his back met the wall. “She is your mother, as well, Loki! You cannot keep leaving her like this. She worries every time you leave and when she’s better and manages to continue on without you at her side, she’s _happy_ and then,” Thor huffed a big breath, slamming his hands against the wall on either side of Loki’s head, “and then you come back and she’s still happy, but then you leave and it’s like the good drains out of her for a couple of days before she’s back to how she was before.”

He didn’t answer, just let Thor’s rage wash over him because he honestly thought Frigga would grieve his absence a bit more than a few days, but apparently it was not so—not that he wished for his mother, his favorite family member, to suffer. “And you? Do you not feel my lack of presence?”

“When word comes that you are dead, I will mourn, but not sooner.”

“And father?”

“He misses you,” Thor said and Loki’s heart swelled a bit, “in meetings.” It shattered.

He cleared his throat, giving Thor a flat smile. “Well, that’s all nice and good and all things warm and sweet, but there’s nothing I can do and I would rather not spend a night of celebration arguing with you.” He slipped under Thor’s arm and continued towards the feast. His heart ached in his chest and as his brother fell in step beside him, it hurt a bit more.

As they entered the hall, Thor sent him one last look before joining the Warrior Three with a bright smile, practically jumping on them like the excitable oaf he was. Loki smiled slightly in fondness before he moved on, shifting through the crowd, watching as people danced to the music being played; couples easily shifting around each other to the classic tune. Nodding towards the few people who acknowledged his presence, mainly common folk that had earned the respect of their king, Loki grabbed a sweet delicacy from an offered plate, making sure there was no poison in it before taking a small bite, subtly throwing the rest away when no one was paying attention.

Moving through the crowd of people in the large hall, he smiled triumphantly when he saw his mother, dressed in a golden gown that flowed off her in waves, her blonde hair clipped back, cascading neatly down her back. Moving closer, he ignored her jump of surprise at the sight of him, wrapping her up in his arms—completely out of character for him, but he found it completely necessary. “Hello, mother,” he whispered softly in her ear and when he pulled back, he felt warmth flood his insides at the sight of her sweet smile.

“Hello, Loki,” she murmured back, reaching up a delicate hand and carding her fingers through his hair. “I can’t help but feel that you like that coat of yours too much,” she teased and he tossed her an easy grin, keeping his gaze warm, grin broadening as her hands adjusted the leather coat, fixing the folds.

“It provides a level of comfort.” Turning, he bowed to Odin, murmuring a soft, barely audible, ‘good evening, father’. He turned back to Frigga, ignoring that fact that Thor toppled into their father not two seconds later, giving him a tight hug, pulling back quickly as Odin clasped his shoulder, directing at his first born a warm smile. He tried to ignore the pain in his chest. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed leaving constantly.

“I’m going to go mingle, alright, mother? I love you,” he whispered, pulling her close for another hug. Turning to Odin, he gave a curt nod before his gaze shifted to his brother whose eyes were focused on him as well. Moving closer, he clasped a hand on a broad shoulder. “Try not to miss me too much, Odinson,” he whispered as he brushed past, slipping into the haze of people, disappearing like thin air.

Thanking his lucky stars, Loki eased his way through the crowd without stumbling or bumping into people, no one stopping to talk to him. He slipped all the way to the exit, shuffling out of the door, sighing softly in relief. Moving down the halls quickly, keeping the illusion spell he had left in the hall, mingling with people, yet artfully avoiding physical contact, he kept his steps light, casually walking past the few guards scattered around. He knew he only had minutes, though—seconds, even. After all, it only took one touch for his illusion to be revealed.

Moving quickly, he winced at the sound of Thor’s roar of his name and broke into a full sprint. Why was it always his brother that noticed first? Running down the halls quickly, he ignored the feeling of static in the air. Entering his chamber, he threw off his cloak, grabbing his leather bag—already packed—tugging it onto his shoulders. Grabbing the three scrolls, he pushed out of his chambers, slipping behind a pillar at the perfect moment because Thor came barreling down the hall the next second, a mountain of unbridled fury.

“Loki, explain yourself,” Thor roared as he stormed into Loki’s bedroom and in the few seconds while the blonde searched his quarters, Loki was dashing down the hall, pausing at Thor’s room to throw the scroll on his bed before running towards his parents’ chamber. Shoving aside the guards that blocked his path, he dived into the room, slamming the doors shut before the guards could grab at him again—golden plated idiots. Leaving Odin’s letter on his pillow and tucking Frigga’s under hers, he moved towards the window, not at all surprised to find it raining outside.

_Thor and his emotions…_

He didn’t flinch as lightning struck down not too far off. Shoving himself onto the balcony, he grinned when he saw Sleipnir, his father’s horse, waiting for him and he swung over the balcony, praying he would make the landing because he had never counted on rain being a problem. Landing with a quiet ‘oof’ that was drowned out by the roaring thunder, he patted the side of the strong neck.

Sleipnir released a neigh loud enough to rival the rolling storm, taking off towards the Bifrost as directed. The eight-legged horse was going full speed and he could feel the bullets of rain striking his face and he released the reigns, the stead already seeming to know where they were heading, leaning back and turning his face up to the clouds, a bright smile on his face. He could feel the freedom already inching closer, the tight grip that been around him loosening.

“Loki, stop this instant!”

Jerking upright, he whipped his head around, raven hair whipping at his face as he saw Thor riding his own horse, following him. He was further away than his voice made it sound—the loud bastard. Turning to face forward once more, he leaned down, upper body pressed tight against Sleipnir as he galloped towards the Bifrost, getting on the bridge and heading over it quickly.

Heimdall was already there, sword in hand and Loki didn’t wait for the horse to stop dismounting it hurriedly. “Open the Bifrost, Heimdall.”

“For what purpose,” the man bit back, eyes narrowed. Loki had always had the gnawing suspicion that the man didn’t like him.

“Do I need a purpose? I don’t see you ever asking Thor for one. Now, I will ask again—open the Bifrost, Heimdall.”

Inquisitive eyes turned to look him over and they narrowed even further. “Why is your brother chasing you?”

A groan ripped itself free. “I do not have time for this!” He imagined in his mind’s eyes the pocket opening and he felt the familiar weight of the casket in his hands. Heimdall got ready to fight in an instant, but the casket was opened and the ice covered him, but not his hands which held the key to the Bifrost. Snatching it from the tight grip, he settled the casket back into the pocket with a mere thought as he moved towards the keyhole.

“Loki,” Thor cried out as he stumbled into the dome and the raven bit back the sigh of frustration, rounding on his brother.

“What? What could you possibly want now?”

“Loki…” The blonde stepped closer and closer and Loki could only remain rooted to the spot as he saw the sheer emotion in his older brother’s eyes. His adoptive brother… The key was pried from his hands, clattering to the ground, and he was led away from the hole. Thor’s hands gripped him tight as he was pulled into an embrace. “Why, brother, why?”

The pain and anguish that been building up in Loki since the day he found out, despite the relief, seemed to tighten and then release as he pulled back, leaned up, and sealed his lips with Thor’s.

The blonde was well and thoroughly stunned and Loki pulled back, looking into twin gems of blue that were wide and staring at him, confused and naïve as he had expected. “I am not your brother,” he whispered as the ice flowed from the casket, freezing Thor’s feet to the ground, turning his own skin blue and his eyes red. Stepping away, he bent to pick up the key before moving once more to his original position. It slid in and he twisted, the blue fading from his skin as his eyes turned emerald once more.

“Loki, don’t do this!” the blonde cried out and the raven felt a bit bad as he gazed upon his brother.

“Will you miss me, Odinson?”

“Loki…”

“Will you?”

“I—” Thor stopped, watching as the Bifrost positioned its aim. “I won’t,” the blonde spoke slowly, swallowing thickly, “because you’ll be back, you always are.”

“Not this time.” The Bifrost opened and Loki sighed, a soft, _serene_ , look at last coming over his normally hardened and strained expression. He felt at peace with his decision.

“Loki!”

“Goodbye, Thor…”


	2. Chapter o2

He landed on top of a building, hard under his feet and his teeth clicked with the force from the drop. Rolling his shoulders, he adjusted the straps of his bag as he carefully moved towards the exit of the rooftop, moving slowly as he gathered his bearings. Entering the building, Loki hurried to the elevators, pressing the button and casually waiting. He had no clue what this building was for—whether it was for a company or just for apartments or whatever—though he didn’t care to find out. Still, he prayed it wasn’t for a business because it would be awkward to lie himself out of that.

The doors slid open and Loki stepped in, watching the metal doors slide shut and he pressed the button for the ground floor. Burying his hands in the pockets of his leather pants, specifically designed to suit him for Asgard’s feast and for his current location’s style. The coat he had left at Asgard had covered up his outfit quite easily.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors slid open, revealing a group of people dressed in black suits and while Loki had always hated wearing clothe so stifling, he understood it was so that they seemed professional. Walking past them without sparing then a glance, Loki pushed through the revolving door, entering the dark streets of New York City.

It was night time already and the streets weren’t crowded, most people eating dinner now. Shifting the bag of his shoulders, he rummaged through it while walking; quickly finding what he was looking for. He had visited this realm often—Midgard—a neutral realm that was honestly quite interesting and while the mortals seemed to need a disciplining hand the majority of the time; they were quite inventive.

Plugging in his headphones, he turned on the StarkPhone, scrolling through his music calmly, selecting the song he wanted to listen to at the moment and then tucking it into his back pocket. Re-situating the bag on his shoulders, he continued his walk towards the apartment he had recently rented for this very purpose, singing along quietly to the lyrics.

“ _If you want money in your pocket and a top hat on your head, a hot meal on your table and a blanket on your bed,_ ” he sang quietly, eyes slowly slipping closed as he lost himself in the rhythm of the music, having memorized the streets already and his heightened senses allowed him to navigate around any object without needing to see—the majority of the time, anyway.

“ _Well, today is grey skies, tomorrow is tears. You’ll have to wait till yesterday is here,”_ his fingers tapped along to the beat in his pockets, soothing him along and his eyes slipped open once more and he almost missed the movement to his side, but stopped himself anyway. Turning, he looked at where he had seen the movement, walking closer to the alley opening, cocking an eyebrow. It was a small alleyway, cramped, but there was a dark figure lying there.

Pressing pause to his music, he crept forward quietly, just in case it turned out to be a homeless man, but as he heard the quiet shuddering of a weak gasp, he found it a bit harder to believe it was a homeless man. He knew the sound of pain. Hurrying forward a few more steps, he crouched near the body. “Excuse me?”

He heard a click and felt the cold metal of the gun through his shirt. Red filled his vision and he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Who are you?” The words were gritted out and he could trace the pain hidden underneath the tough. Trying to smile, he reached out a hand hesitantly, brushing red hair from his vision.

“Ah, the pretty face is revealed. My name is,” he smiled warmly, extending his hand for a shake, “Loki. May I ask for yours?”

The female glared at him, though she slowly lowered the gun, putting it in its holster. He realized her other hand was pressed against her thigh, slick and wet. Her now free hand reached out, shaking his hand and he gripped her hand a bit tighter, pulling her into her arms and he felt her anger through the tension in her body as he stood up. “Put me down.” It wasn’t a cried, a plea—no, it was a command, steady and strong and he smiled at her once more, all teeth and gums, kind and honest.

“You’re coming with me so that I can patch you up. Here,” he shifted his hold on her and placed a headphone in her ear, pressing play to his music as he began walking again, holding her firmly in his arms. She wasn’t heavy and definitely no problem for a god, so that was a plus.

“ _Well, I’m going to New York City and I’m leaving on a train,”_ he let his gaze wander over the city lights, his eyes turning up towards the sky, “ _and if you want to stay behind and wait till I come back again.”_ Looking down at the female, he pressed a finger on her arm down a bit to get her attention. “Do you know the song?” She reluctantly nodded and he rocked her a bit, adjusting his hold. “Sing along, then—if you want.” He continued walking, glancing around before crossing the street. “ _Well, today is grey skies, tomorrow is tears. You’ll have to wait till yesterday is here.”_

“ _If you want to go where the rainbows end, you’ll have to say goodbye,”_ the female sang softly, lying against Loki’s chest, releasing a soft breath of defeat and he grinned, feeling a bit giddy. “ _All our dreams come true—baby up ahead—and it’s out where your memories lie…”_

If Loki was grinning like an idiot as they finally got to his apartment, she didn’t say anything. Unlocking the door, he let it swing open, making his way inside and it shut behind him with a mere thought, locking. Setting the female down on the couch, he placed his bag next to her. “I’ll be right back,” he told her as he moved towards his room, grabbing a change of clothe for her, some sweats and a shirt and the first aid kit. Returning to the living room, he looked up at her while setting the stuff down along with a towel he had grabbed last minute. “Is it alright if I remove your—uh—suit?” He looked at the get up curiously before eyeing the weapons with trepidation.

The female blinked, her eyes a bit clouded and Loki immediately worried if she had lost too much blood, but then she was taking off the weapons belt around her waist and setting it to the side, close to her still. He could respect that she didn’t trust him. They had just met, after all. She unzipped the suit, clenching her jaw when she shifted to shimmy it off. Being polite, Loki didn’t offer help so that she wouldn’t get insulted. Clearly, she was a very strong-willed woman that—he assumed—wouldn’t take to kindly being thought down upon.

When she got to her legs, Loki automatically stepped in after sending a cautious look up to the red-head. Receiving no glare or threat, Loki grabbed the suit and gently began to inch it down, maneuvering it carefully around the wounded area with practiced ease.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” the woman spoke as Loki finally had her suit off along with her shoes. She sounded a bit out of breath and he tried to stay calm, knowing she was probably in quite a bit of pain. Humans were a bit more delicate than the people of Asgard or Jotunheim. He shrugged his shoulders, a bitter smile on his lips.

“Dealt with it a lot as a kid, I suppose. My brother,” he hesitated before sighing, continuing on as if he hadn’t paused, “was not known for his gentleness—neither were his friends, for that matter…” Loki murmured as he went about cleaning around the wound. The female seemed interested, raising a perfect eyebrow at Loki. _Good, she can focus—that means she hasn’t lost too much blood yet._ Relief flooded his system as he continued to clean up the blood.

“How was that so?”

“During sparring sessions, he’d turn into a beast, go all out. As long as you were breathing by the time he was done, he considered everything good and in order.” He said as he wiped away the blood gently. “This is going to hurt a bit, alright?” Loki looked up at her through long eyelashes and she nodded and he placed his hand over the wound, muttering a quiet spell and he felt the slight thud of metal hitting his hand. Grasping the small metal object, covered in blood, he ignored her surprised expression that tightened into caution as he set the bullet aside, wiping his hand on the towel.

“How…” she whispered and Loki gave her a small apologetic smile.

“I am Loki, a god,” at her skeptical expression, he shrugged his shoulders a bit, “of sorts. Do not fret, though. I mean no ill will.” He closed the wound with magic as much as he could, stopping the blood flow and repairing some of the damage. “As long as you rest for a bit, it will heal perfectly and far faster than a regular human.” Bandaging up her thigh, he handed her the change of clothes.

The red-headed female watched him cautiously and he looked down a bit sadly. He knew she didn’t trust him much before, but now she made it more obvious and it kind of hurt. He had left Asgard so that he could start anew in a place where no one knew him or what he was. Loki knew himself to be a sensitive person, despite his outward appearance, and he knew what he craved—companionship. Nothing sexual; he had survived his life without that, but he craved friendship, to have an easy camaraderie with people other than Frigga and Thor.

“Um,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, turning around even if he had already seen her practically nude, “you can use those for tonight and I’ll clean your suit and fix it up.” He picked up the leather, stretching it out on the coffee table and going about fixing it up before he cleaned it. The slight shuffle from behind told him the female was dressing and he continued fixing the suit.

“Natasha,” she suddenly spoke and Loki turned around, looking at her in confusion, brow furrowed, “my name is Natasha. I didn’t answer you before.”

“Ah,” he choked out, lips twitching before slowly tugging up into a blinding smile, “nice to meet you, Natasha.”

They spent the night in relative silence. Natasha played on his phone and eventually she released a stifled yawn that she clearly tried to hide. Loki smiled secretly, waiting another half hour before turning to look at her. He had fixed her suit and cleaned it by hand and checked on her wound before just simply sitting with his back turned to her in an act of vulnerability to prove he wasn’t a threat.

“Would you like to lie down now? Your wound will heal faster.” He turned around slowly, still sitting on the floor, not moving himself to make any move to assist her. “I don’t know if it has healed enough for you to walk on your own, but go ahead and try. You may occupy my bedroom for the night.” Loki gave her a small, hesitant smile, pale fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt nervously. She nodded shortly, slowly pushing herself to her feet, balancing on one leg before she cautiously allowed her other foot to press against the ground. She tottered a bit and Loki itched to help the red-head, but refrained from doing so through sheer will-power.

“I think I’m good,” she stated as she took a few experimental steps around the couch, keeping a hand out in case she needed to catch herself.

“Alright, then, the bedroom is the door on the left. The one on the right is the bathroom, in case you need it,” Loki supplied helpfully, grunting softly as he pulled himself onto his feet. “Help yourself to any food. You can leave when you feel ready enough, or you can wait for breakfast tomorrow. It’s up to you,” the raven said as he moved towards the kitchen, pulling out a chair and plopping himself down into it. The red-head nodded before walking slowly to his bedroom.

The night passed quietly. Loki, silently awake, stayed in the same position for most of the night before he walked to the couch and lay down, head situated on the armrest as his eyes slipped closed. Natasha was a quiet sleeper as was Loki and they barely made any noise throughout the night other than their breathing. The god admittedly didn’t need to sleep every night as every other mortal did, but it passed the time. Living with Thor had made him hard to wake if he didn’t feel a threat, so when Natasha awoke the next morning and walked out of the room, her feet barely scuffing the ground as she moved to the bathroom, he didn’t stir.

Closing the door behind her, she showered quickly, cupping handfuls of water to wash with instead of full-blown using the shower to wash her body. When she checked the gunshot, she found it completely healed without the slightest sting of pain. Drying off, she slipped on her mission suit, cursing colorfully in her head as she realized she had left all her weapons in the living room… _with Loki_. Exiting the bathroom with trepidation, she wandered to the living room to find the mystery man laying on the couch sound asleep, arms crossed loosely over his chest, head rolled back over the armrest. Her weapons were all there on the coffee table, delicately cleaned out, she noted. Everything was loaded and in place and she bit her bottom lip a bit as she glanced back. It went against every rule she had, but she put on the belt before searching the room for a pen and paper.

A simple note was left in place of her weapons on the coffee table before she turned to eye Loki. The pale man looked like a white sheet of paper in the dark night, then sun yet to have started rising.

_“Well, the road’s out before me and the moon is shining bright. What I want you to remember as I disappear tonight; today is grey skies, tomorrow is tears—you’ll have to wait till yesterday is here.”_

She left silently after dropping a soft kiss onto a pale forehead.

When Loki woke up, it was to an empty apartment. He felt the sinking feeling in his gut, a cold moving through his veins, though not comforting like the ice that made up his heritage. It had been expected for the red-head, _Natasha_ , to leave before he awoke, but he had clung to a small sense of hope—as he always did. It was empty hope that maybe one of these days it would be different.

Lips pressing into a thin line, he pushed himself up to sit before glancing about. She had made a calm retreat, he noted since everything was in its place still. There had been no haste while she left, so that supplied a bit of comfort which he clung to with claws and teeth. That meant she hadn’t been afraid of him. Running long fingers through his hair, he blinked in surprise as his eyes landed on the slip of paper with a pen lying on top of it to hold it in place.

Reaching out with a shaking hand, he lifted the paper and read the neat hand-writing that seemed almost clinical, but it held so much personality in it still. A smile stretched on his lips as he read the words and he relaxed into the couch, eyes fluttering shut as a lone tear of happiness slipping out and the sun slowly rose to glimmer between the buildings of New York City.

It was a few months later. He was settled into his life on Midgard once more, and was waiting for the waitress to deliver his meal, his eyes focused on the two people before him.

“I’m telling you, he’s stealing my underwear.”

“I am not!”

“You are!”

A grin slowly stretched on his lips as he watched the two bicker. They were quite the duo and Loki couldn’t be happier. Life finally seemed worth it now. He could feel the pulse of casket, pumping steadily in its pocket of space, like his heart. His phone beeped and he pulled out, checking the message, smile slowly morphing into a full on smirk.

“Sorry, guys, I’ll be right back—going to take a quick smoke,” Loki said and the two blinked before nodding their heads in understanding.

“Don’t keep us waiting too long,” the blonde murmured, watching as Loki stood up and the raven leant down to press a soft kiss to his cheek. Moving to the female next to the blonde, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before waving while walking away from the table.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Be right back!”

“You better be!” Clint and Natasha yelled back in unison before they were back to bickering about whether or not Clint was stealing Natasha’s underwear.

Exiting the restaurant, he teleported to the place he wanted to be at, an old factory residing somewhere in the middle of Illinois, whistling under his breath as he walked, the dark room around him making his smile maliciously.

_“If you want to go where the rainbows end, you’ll have to say goodbye,”_ he sang, ice trickling down his arm in rivulets, fusing together and forming a casing around it as it sharpened to a blade. Men in black jumped out of their hiding places to face the intruder and he laughed softly, shifting on his feet smoothly, nicking at their bodies enough to keep them away, but keep them close to him at the same time. _“All our dreams come true—baby up ahead—and it’s out where your memories lie,”_ The center of the abandoned factory was surrounded by people dressed in straight black suits and Loki’s laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it as he moved through the men with nothing but pure enjoyment on his face.

“Get him!”

He flicked his wrist, no one noticed what happened, too immersed in their attempts to grab him, and he moved out of the room, ducking blows and returning jabs with some of his own, cutting some flesh off of some men, pricking others. _“Well, the road’s out before me and the moon is shining bright. What I want you to remember as I disappear tonight.”_ He made it out of the factory and the doors were shut and barred once he stepped out, the men not wanting to even bother following him as they hid in their fear. He chuckled dryly. Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number as he slowly started walking away.

“Mission accomplished, I hope,” the man on the other end of the phone grunted and the raven twirled as he continued to walk away from the factory.

“Indeed, Director Fury,” he mused, giggles full of mirth as he felt a little skip be added to his step, giddy to return to his two friends. He could practically hear the grin in the director’s voice.

“Well done, Agent U235.” Fury hung up after uttering the last line.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper, still looking new, protected by magic.

_“Why is he called Agent U235?” Clint asked, cocking his head to the side as they walked behind Fury. He seemed purely interested, no malice in his tone as his gaze flicked over to Loki and then Natasha who was hiding her own curiosity spectacularly, though it was eating her up too._

_“Because the one ingredient that’s most commonly known to be used in the atomic bomb is uranium 235,” Fury responded curtly, not slowing his pace to entertain Clint’s questions._

_“But,_ why _is he called that?”_

_Fury sighed, stopping to whirl around and face Clint, face blank, though the slight twitching of his eye revealed his irritation. Clint had been bugging him for weeks about this, after all. “Because, Agent Barton, he makes things go_ boom _.”_

Pulling out the Casket of Ancient Winters from its safe pocket, he fired the ice blast towards the factory, covering it easily in a dome of hard ice. The casket disappeared back into the pocket as he gazed at the paper in his hand, continuing to walk away.

The explosion went off and shards of ice flew about, dropping like stones, others like snowflakes. A soft smile adorned his lips as he gazed at the words in his hand.

_I’d like to know more about you, Mr. Sort-Of God._

_The café we passed yesterday—it seems nice. Thursday, seven p.m._

_—Natasha_

Twirling around in the falling crystals of ice, he giggled like a child, emerald orbs fixed on the sky.

“How I wish you could see this brother,” he whispered before laughing once more, a light sound to match his jubilant mood. “ _Today is grey skies, tomorrow is tears—you’ll have to wait till yesterday’s here.”_


	3. This is IMPORTANT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important things regarding this story and the series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be some good news below and a teaser, okay? So, read on!

**Warning: This most likely contains some spelling and grammar mistakes--it is not beta'd.**

Okay, so hey guys! I have officially decided to make this a series, so you can go subscribe to that to receive updates for when I post the next addition to this!

It took a lot of planning and I want to thank everyone for the marvelous feedback I received. I've been hard at work with the new edition and thanks to some prompts from all of you, I have the next two or three editions planned (sort of), so please look forward to it.

Thank you so much also for all of your feedback. It was lovely and it made me so ridiculously happy, you cannot even begin to imagine it. As someone so new to this fandom, it warms my heart to know people enjoyed my work so much.

 

So, here is a teaser to what is coming because I felt bad coming here with all this news and not giving you anything to wet your mouths with, per se.

 

* * *

 

_It had been years since he had last heard the name. Since he had last heard that name mentioned in his presence and he jerked upright as his two sons came barreling into the room, shouting frantically and blabbering uncontrollably and out of the mess of words one word stood out. A name—the name—of his son, his third born._

“Silence,” _he bellowed and it arrived not a second later, his two sons gazing up at him with red eyes, wide and eager. “Talk, one at a time, from the beginning.”_

 

 

 

 

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“Laceration, though not from the fall,” Loki muttered, throwing a glance at the open window. He knew it was a bad day to have the window open, especially if Clint and Natasha were over. With a flick of his wrist, they were closed and the blinds drawn and Loki quickly turned his attention to Clint, hands making quick work of the blonde’s shirt before setting to work. The weapon used was retrieved and after quick analysis, he determined it to have been just a knife—no poison. Relieved, he set about quickly healing Clint up before standing to fetch a bandage._

_Natasha was soothing Clint softly, hands pressing gently against his scalp, massaging and hushing as Clint slowly got his wits about him again. The pool of blood was quickly vanished and the shirt was tossed out as Loki returned with the bandages and a new shirt for the blonde male. They helped him to the couch and he sat down heavily, blinking up dazedly at Natasha and Loki._

_“Am I good?”_

_“You’re good.”_

_“Good…” were the whispered words before he sagged to the side, body automatically curling up on the cushions. Natasha sighed softly and urged him to straighten as Loki quickly bandaged up the wound and then fit the shirt over Clint’s head, shoving the arms through the sleeves before finally letting Clint relax._

 

* * *

 

So, yeah, that's the teaser! I hope you guys will read it and thank you so much for all of your support. It means so much.

Continue reading, if you would like. There is just a bit of advertisement of my other works. I normally hate when authors do this, but I know writing this story and getting it nice and long will take a while, so I wanted to give you some options of my other work, just in case you want to read something until then.

Okay, so:

Quick advertisement time!

I have a drabble posted for what I like to imagine Clint's mind control was like because I have a thing with Loki actually being a victim in that situation too, so feel free to check it out! It's called Echo. ( http://archiveofourown.org/works/4662912 )

I have a Stony story also and it's a song fic, basically, but I had a lot of fun writing it and it's rather quick, but it's a one-shot. Feel free to check that out. It's called Heart Attack. ( http://archiveofourown.org/works/4685585 )

Then, I have a Spideypool fic. It's a hurt/comfort and it does have really (and I mean really) brief mentions of the aftermath of torture, but I like it. It's inspired by a song (Echo, Heart Attack, and this one are inspired y songs because music is great) and it is a one-shot, but do feel free to check it out. There is a bit of Stony in there, too. It's called More Than Words. ( http://archiveofourown.org/works/5141591 )

And lastly, I have a chaptered fic of Aragorn/Legolas and it's my first fanfic on t his sight. It's pretty slow paced and unfortunately the chapters are rather short, but feel free to check it out if you want. It's called You Were Looking For An Artist. It's my only work not inspired by a song XD ( http://archiveofourown.org/works/2829320/chapters/6347501 )

 

 

Thanks, again, so much for everything! Take care all of you and don't forget to subscribe to this series for more updates!

The link for the series in case you don't want to go and click it right below-- ( http://archiveofourown.org/series/348545 )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Do comment, if you want, on your thoughts and such! Thanks, again!

**Author's Note:**

> That's all, really! Comments and kudos and very much appreciated and seriously, go ahead and let me know what you thought if you feel like it. They make me happy. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Feel free to follow me on instagram, same username ( saruma_aki ) <3


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